Hi, My Name Is Rachel And I’m An Addict.

No, this isn’t going to be one of those sordid tell-all posts that ping-pong across the blogsphere. I’m not confessing anything here that my friends and family don’t already know. They’ve seen the signs: The heightened anxiety, the snappishness, the darting eyes examining passing street corners when we’re out and about in unfamiliar territory. Every afternoon at about two o’clock it sets in: Caffeine withdrawal.

I’m addicted to coffee.

But not just any coffee, mind you. I’m partial to the espresso-and-foamed-milk variety that I started drinking as a teenager in Florence, Italy, continued drinking as a barista during high school, and now make once daily, using a cantankerous elderly machine, in my Los Angeles kitchen.

I’ve tried other varieties of caffeine infusions. Brewed tastes bitter and tends to give me a stomachache. I can do tea, in a pinch—I drink it at breakfast every day. But after a few days of afternoon tea I’m more depressed than an Englishwoman in February. (Trust me, I’ve lived through a U.K. winter—it isn’t pretty.)

According to TransFair USA, coffee is the world’s second largest traded commodity. A full 90% of the world’s coffee is grown by large corporations, which clear cut forests in order to expose the plants to full sun, and then spray them with pesticides and fertilizers.

Forget cream: Can I get a side of benzine hexachloride with that macchiato?

Find out more about Fair Trade, plus where to get a Fair Trade cuppa joe on the go at www.MommyGreenest.com.